


For The Republic

by Rokocon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: CT-7567 | Rex is a Good Bro, Character Study, Clone Troopers Deserve Better (Star Wars), Gen, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rokocon/pseuds/Rokocon
Summary: After the Battle of Endor, Captain Rex takes some time alone to think about battles won and lost.Spoilers for some great Clone Wars episodes!
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	For The Republic

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short character study I wrote on my favorite clone trooper. I hope I did him justice, and that you like the story!

It was pleasantly chilly on the night of the Rebel Alliance's victory. The wide silhouettes of the forest moon's trees provided the perfect frame for the wreckage of the second Death Star.  
It had been hours since the superweapon had been sabotaged by a brave flight of Rebellion starfighters, yet a brilliant cloud of death, debris, and toxic gas still remained in the sky. It was the specter of a crumbling Empire.

Click. The upper receiver of the standard-issue A280 blaster rifle slid into place perfectly. Sometimes heat scoring would prevent the relatively reliable blaster from being reassembled, but rigorous cleaning of the blaster made sure this wouldn't be the case. The old soldier sighting in the scope of the A280 cleaned his blaster better than anyone else here. Maybe even better than any other Rebel soldier. He brought the rifle down and leaned it on the log he was borrowing as a seat.

The soldier shifted his gaze to the ebullient celebrations happening on another of the ewok village's platforms. War-weary pilots and freedom fighters were toasting a hard-fought victory alongside their furry comrades. They laughed and even danced in the light of massive bonfires, all of their cares discarded in favor of ectasy.  
Surely it was known that the war wasn't over yet. Much of the Imperial fleet had escaped to the Core Worlds, but they were disorganized and desperate. 

For Rex, though, the war was finally over.  
The war had been his life, his entire reason for existing. Rex didn't have "hobbies," or other passions he liked to pursue. He had been bred for combat, and that was all. But time had taken its toll.  
The advanced aging that had turned child soldiers into effective warriors for the Galactic Republic meant that the 37 year old clone trooper had the body of a 74 year old. His bones ached when he ran, and his reaction time had slowed. But his eyes were still sharp, and his hand was as steady as a Jedi's blade.

The captain stretched his shoulders as he regarded the party, which seemed worlds away. He wasn't tempted to join them, to spoil their fun with the cynical ruminations of someone who knew that now was no time to celebrate. Instead Rex just sighed and rummaged through his burlap pack. Lit by the makeshift ewok torches hanging nearby, Rex could see what he had been searching for. He pulled out a chipped, yet still sleek, black DC-17 blaster pistol.

It was an outdated relic of another time, yet Rex felt the pistol was an extension of his own arm. He spun the pistol deftly on his finger, smiling slightly as he did. "Still got it, you fossil," he muttered. Rex brought the blaster up to bear with a blur, his eye snapping to its sights. The same sights that had once trained on his brothers… Rex's arm trembled slightly as the luminescent mushrooms of Umbara danced in the margins of his mind. Bodies...so many bodies...were lying in the soil, casualties of their own compatriots. 

Now Rex thought of someone else he had once had behind his DC-17: the traitor who had orchestrated the catastrophe. Eyes full of contempt, Pong Krell had dared Rex to kill him where he stood. His heart had been full of hate that day, but the captain had not taken that dark path. Now he wishes he had executed Krell before Dogma, if only to atone for the brothers killed by his hand.

He didn't falter, not this time. The captain had shed enough tears for several lifetimes, and he had been trained to contain his emotions when he needed to. Trained to act like a droid, he thought now. That was how the Kaminoans had seen him. Born in duraplast, and destined to die in it too, while never enjoying the fruits of life. But the Jedi...they didn't see him that way. At least the two he had known didn't see him that way.

His eye caught a smaller bonfire slightly apart from the celebration. The dark figure lying atop it was very familiar to Rex, and the captain lowered his head to halt his tears. There was no suppressing your feelings when your closest friend was burning into ash. Now Rex's head slumped into his hands, and silent sobs racked his frame. If only he and General Skywalker had listened to what the distressed Fives had tried to tell them...if only Rex had never seen that blasted message from Darth Sidious…

Rex composed himself and put the antique blaster back where it belonged. He rubbed his neck, rustling his prodigious beard, and lied back on the log. An endless dark sky, peppered with shining white points, stretched as far as he could see. Somewhere up there lied Coruscant, and Scarif, and Naboo. A thousand worlds waiting to be liberated from the tyranny Rex had unwittingly help create. He chuckled at the delusion that his war was over. This old clone would not stop fighting until his final breath.  
For his brothers and comrades-in-arms.  
For the innocents across the galaxy.  
For the Republic.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
